Chasing Normality
Chapter 1
Author: Kamikazee E-Mail: neo_kamikazee@hotmail.com Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: none, AU Warning: AU, swearing Characters/Pairing: Lita/Shawn, Molly/Edge, Lillian/Rock, Trish/Jeff, Victoria/Jericho, various other WWE characters Summary: AU, If they weren't wrestlers they would be normal. Not quite. A ball brings 10 completely different people together. Author's Notes: Answer to Rachel's AU challenge. Took me a while to get it out. This chapter is really long, as well. Had to introduce the cast. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters affiliated with the WWE. This is a piece of non-profit fiction. No copyright infringement is intended. Distribution: Fanfiction.net, Personal Space, if you want it, e-mail me the URL
~
The office was not what you would call neat. Papers were strewn across the old desk and the computer sitting there was a step away from retirement. The small room was cramped with just that, but somehow a dilapidated office chair and uniform beige filing cabinet had been shoved in as well.
If one were to look at the papers on the desk, they would see mostly bills. Unpaid bills, at that. Second and third notices, warnings and missed payments. None of the paperwork looked to be hopeful in this office. In fact, it was down right bleak.
The relative quiet of the little room was interrupted as the door was thrown open and a young redhead stormed in. Outside various sounds could be heard. There was the obvious noise of human conversation, as well as dog, cat and bird speak. Some of the sounds couldn't even be distinguished.
The noises were abruptly cut off as the door was slammed close as fast as it had been thrown open. Lita Dumas collapsed into her chair with exhaustion, not seeming to care that the chair made an ominous creak at the motion.
Placing her elbows on her desk she held her head in her hands, attempting to calm her breathing. It probably wasn't the best idea as the motion allowed her close view of those unpaid bills. Lita hiccupped as tears prickled in her eyes.
When Jeff Hardy entered the room 5 minutes later that was how he found her.
"Hey, Li," the young bright haired man said, entering the room with a flourish, "Stacy said you were back here." His sentence was cut off as he noticed his friend's position. "Lita, baby, what's wrong?" Quickly moving to her side, he placed his arms awkwardly around her.
Looking up at him with unfamiliar tears in her eyes, Lita managed to push out a short explanation. "Jeff, they're going to shut me down. I don't have enough money and they won't give me any more loans." Her voice broke at the end of the sentence, thinking in desolation about her pride and joy, her animal shelter.
Jeff's eyes widened, and his head quickly turned to the side, taking in all the demands for payment laying unobtrusively on the worn wood surface of the desk. "Oh, Li, I'm so sorry," he managed to get out, his brain straining to find a solution, "maybe you could get a sponsor, or something. Someone rich who just wants the community recognition."
Lita looked at him with pleading hazel eyes, her tears replaced with desperation, "Jeff, I don't have those kind of connections, and you know it. I don't know anyone worth knowing! I spend most of my time with you and Mason!"
The anxiety in the redhead's voice was getting to the young Hardy, just as a quick solution popped into his brain, "But I do! Lita, that's why I came over here! I got a new job."
"Another one?" her problems momentarily forgotten, Lita looked at the young man in annoyance, "Jeff, that's what, the 6th in 5 months?"
"Something like that," Jeff answered quickly, "But, that's not the point. My new job, it's assisting Shawn Michaels. You know, the billionaire?"
Lita thought for a moment, her tongue between her teeth, "Isn't he that guy who's always saying the really controversial things? On the front page at least once a week for insulting someone important?"
Jeff smiled happily, "Yea, that's him. He's great, really nice guy. Thing is, there's this big ball thingy going on at the McMahon's, and I get to go with him, in case he needs me to copy down notes or something. I bet I could get you invited."
"Jeff, I don't know." Lita was a little uneasy. Shawn Michaels had possibly the worst reputation in San Francisco.
"No, really," Jeff said hurriedly, "Just let me call him. I'll just be a minute." Following that, the southern raised boy whipped out a cell phone Lita knew he hadn't had a week ago and hit speed dial. Fidgeting with impatience while it dialled, the young man gave a large smile when a voice came over the other end.
"Mr. Michaels," he began, politely enough, "Okay, Shawn. I was just wondering if I could bring a friend to the ball at the McMahon's next Saturday. Well, you know, she's just looking for something to do and I didn't want to have to bother you if I got bored. Really! That's great. Thanks, Mr. Shawn. Yes, I'll see you tomorrow."
Jeff turned a widely smiling face on his best friend, "You're in." A second later he was forced to catch a squealing redhead as she jumped into his arms. He laughed as the two of them ended up on the floor, tickling each other.
Lita stopped for a second to stare at the aimless young man. A wide smile spread across her face as she took in his rustled multi-coloured hair. "Jeff, I think I love you."
~
When Shawn Michaels got off the phone, he was lounging. He wasn't simply sitting, because that just wouldn't do, he was lounging. Thrown casually across a chair whose cost could have fed a small country for a month, he seemed perfectly at home, and yet decidedly inappropriate for the occasion. This was Shawn's constant state of being.
As it was, the blonde man should not have been able to pull of drinking a beer in his surroundings, yet he did without a care for how out of place it looked. In fact, the man prided himself on being exactly the opposite of what everyone expected him to be.
The call from his newest assistant had gotten him thinking, yet again, on the upcoming festivities. Shawn snorted at his description. While most people might not consider a Vince McMahon party fun, with him there, it would certainly be interesting.
Shawn let a smile curve his lips at the thought of yet another chance at humiliating Vince McMahon in front of a room full of important figures. The man deserved it, he was the lowest of the low. He should never have been allowed to reproduce. Come to think of it, he couldn't imagine what his wife saw in him.
That train of thought lead him to the McMahon children. Shane and Stephanie. Shane, as far as Shawn had seen, was just like his father. Not to be trusted and manipulative. Stephanie, though, he felt somewhat piteous of. He couldn't imagine growing up in that house.
Shaking his head, Shawn Michaels banished the thought. She was a McMahon's, for God's sake."
~
Stephanie McMahon laid on king sized bed, bored out of her mind. The media- proclaimed, billion-dollar princess had nothing to do. No suitors knocking on the door, no Shane playing pranks, no Linda to talk to and no Vince to suck up to.
It would have surprised many to find out that the young woman was decidedly not looking forward to the upcoming ball. In fact, the brunette was practically dreading it. An entire night with people who didn't care about her apart from what her last name was.
Sure, she thought, it was fun for a while, but there was only so much ass kissing she could stand. Stephanie sometimes wished that people treated her normally; for all that she would miss the luxuries of being rich. Her eyes widened with an idea as she thought of the one person outside her family who did treat her normally.
Picking up her phone, Stephanie quickly dialled a number she knew off by heart. When the phone was answered, she asked politely for the person she was suddenly dying to talk to. "Hi, can you tell Molly that Stephanie McMahon's on the phone?"
~
Molly Holly hummed to herself as she wheeled beneath the classic Mustang. This was a beautiful car. Forest green with brown leather interior and an engine to die for. What Molly wouldn't give to own a car like that. As it was, all she got to do was change the transmission.
When she heard Spike Dudley screeching that someone was on the phone, the short woman let out a sigh. So much for a private moment with the car. Rising up from underneath the car, the dyed blonde wiped grease stained hands on her coveralls and walked towards the small office of the garage.
Taking the old phone from her business partner, she took on her professional tone, "Sweet Rides Body Shop, Holly speaking." Listening to the squealing on the other end, the Molly quickly realized who it was. "Hey, Steph."
Pausing yet again as her brunette friend started to ramble, Molly Holly quickly faded out. The technique had been perfected after a five-year friendship with the youngest McMahon. When Stephanie ended with a question, Molly found herself somewhat confused.
"What was that?" she asked, blinking in bewilderment. When Steph repeated herself, the eyes that had so recently been relaxed widened in shock. "No, no way." The blonde was shaking her head frantically at the phone. "I'm not a party person, Steph, you know that. Oh, come on. No don't do that. Fine, yes, I'll go. Just stop whining."
Molly let her head drop at the excited scream on the other end. Stephanie began talking again and Molly accepted the fact that she wouldn't be moving for a while. Luckily for her, yet another yell from Spike saved her, "Costumer!"
"Sorry, Steph," Molly said with a smile on her face, "Duty calls." She then dropped the phone into its cradle and headed back into the garage proper. The sight that greeted her would have made woman across the world swoon, Molly Holly simply smiled.
Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson was a sex symbol to woman all over the world, but Molly Holly liked him only because of his choice in car. Moving over to him, she greeted the celebrity with a handshake. "Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry, but you're cars not ready yet, I got interrupted."
"It's ready," Spike answered, his body revealed as he pushed himself out from under the Mustang that Molly had been working on earlier. "All finished up. I did it while you were on the phone, Molls." Molly nodded at the explanation.
"I'll just print up your bill for you then, Mr. Johnson." As she accessed the appropriate file on the garage computer, Dwayne was pulled into conversation by Spike.
"Yes, The Rock needed his ride for the McMahon party next Saturday. Have to make an impression for all The Rock's fans, you know." Molly rolled her eyes at Spike, handing over the bill for the transmission change.
"Here's your bill Mr. Johnson." Molly said politely enough, trying to fight a mocking smile that threatened her lips, "If you have any questions."
"The Rock has no questions," was the reply she got, "The Rock will make sure you get your payment." With that the man flipped out his sunglasses and drove out of the garage, not a word of good-bye to either of the mechanics.
"What an asshole." was Spike's only statement before he headed back to work.
~
Chris Jericho slammed his desk phone down after once again having to deal with idiotic secretary's who had more breasts then brains. All he wanted was one interview with 'The Rock'. One interview. They wouldn't give it to him, though. Dwayne Johnson's PR people wouldn't allow it after that demeaning article he had written on the man two months ago.
Letting his hands run through his blonde hair, Chris sighed. Maybe his article had been a little insulting, but it had all been truthful. The man was a conceited asshole and he would willingly pay to go to see one of his movies when platypuses flew out of his ass.
At the sound of someone entering the office, Chris looked up, expecting it to be Steven Richards, or one of the other journalists. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of the Boy Wonder, Shane McMahon. Seeing the young man in the office was not a normal occurrence.
Seeing the man walk into the editor's office, Chris rose from his desk. Moving over to loiter around Eric Bischoff's office, her casually leaned against the doorjamb, straining to hear the conversation inside. The only words he could pick out were journalist, ball, and spice it up.
When the door was quickly opened, Chris turned hurriedly to the side, feigning innocence. Eric looked at him with the constant annoyance he had whenever he was in the blonde Canadians presence. "Jericho."
Chris raised a hand and gave a saucy wave, "Hey boss." He then turned to the interesting part of his day, Shane McMahon, "Yo, Simba, long time no see." He used his own nickname for the McMahon heir, hoping to get a rise out of him.
Shane McMahon gave him a twisted smile that made Chris Jericho just a little more wary then he had been before. "Jericho, just the trouble making journalist I was looking for." Eric looked a little surprised at the comment, which quickly turned to shock.
"No, no, no." he began, getting red in the face, "You don't want Jericho. The man is insulting, brash and has no tact at all!"
Shane McMahon went on smiling that same creepy smile, "Just the reporter I was looking for to cover the McMahon family ball."
Chris smiled at the realization of what that could mean for him. Flashing blue eyes showed his excitement at the idea. "I'm in."
Shane smiled and replied simply, "I thought you would be. Oh, yea, just so you know. I hear Edge is going to be there as well. Don't you two no each other?" The eldest McMahon sibling then turned and strode out of the building, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
Chris Jericho, on the other hand, had exchange his smile for a frown, his forehead wrinkling. "I hate that guy!"
~
"This is E & C on Radio 619 preparing you for your non-stop rock block." As soon as the on-air light flashed off, the tall blonde sighed with relief and turned to his brother, who was lounging beside him. "Man, I love this job, but don't you wish you could actually say something worth while, you know?"
Christian looked at Edge in confusion and asked, "Dude, why would you want to do that." Shaking his blonde head, he turned back to his video game magazine. Edge sighed again and turned to his book. Christian was his brother, but sometimes he wondered about that guy.
The brother's reading was quickly interrupted when Rey Mysterio entered the broadcasting room. He turned to Edge and started, no small talk stopping him. "Yo, man, how would you like to do this interview at the McMahon place?"
Edge stared wide-eyed at his boss. "You don't mean, the ball, do you? Oh, man, that's like the largest event of the year! I'd so love to do it!"
Rey nodded at him, "It's yours. Next Saturday, 8 pm. Don't forget to bring a date." The short man then left as quickly as he had came, leaving Edge dumbfounded and Christian as dumb as always.
Christian then shook himself out of his ongoing stupor for a second to look at his brother, "Dude, where are you going to find a date?"
Edge's eyes widened. The blonde Canadian then quickly leapt up and grabbed his coat, running for the door. "I'll be back in a few."
Sprinting across the street, Edge burst into the near deserted dinner there. Eyes quickly scanning it, they settled on a bored Lillian Garcia, leaning against the counter and humming. "Lily!" Edge yelled, catching the other blonde's attention.
Looking up, Lillian smiled at him, "Hey, Edge, what's up?" she asked, her voice melodic even in speech. "Can I get you anything?"
"You can be my date to the McMahon ball next Saturday," Edge looked at the woman with pleading eyes as she took on a state of puzzlement. "Just say yes."
"Okay, yes, but." Lillian was cut off as the tall man quickly hugged her before sprinting back out the door, nearly running over two women on his way out.
"Thanks, Lil! I'll talk to you later!"
~
As Trish Stratus and Victoria Varon walked into the small diner, the two women were forced to rapidly push themselves against the wall as a tall blonde man bolted past them. Continuing in, Trish huffed in indignation, "How rude."
Victoria simply shrugged her shoulders. Instead of continuing on that topic, which she knew Trish would do if she said anything about it, she headed on to why they were in the diner in the first place. "So, why did Vince McMahon say he wanted to meet us here?"
Trish frowned, thinking about the meeting they were supposed to have, "I don't really know, Vic. But, come on, we had to come. This is THE Vince McMahon. The billionaire."
Victoria simply snorted at the description and added her two cents about the man, "The complete perve." She did not have a high opinion of that man, or for any of his family, for that matter. She had read the articles.
When the man himself walked in several minutes later, she was about as impressed as she had started off, not much. The sleazy smile and slightly off eyes put Victoria on her guard. Trish, however, ploughed on unafraid.
"Oh, Mr. McMahon," she gushed, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I have to tell you, we were surprised by your call, but it's such an honour that you would. I'm Trish Stratus and this is Victoria Varon."
"Pleasure," Vince gave them a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes and sat down at the small booth. Victoria was infinitely glad it wasn't on her side. When he began to talk, she became even more nervous.
"Well, I was looking into the university students, get the scoop on who to hire, and I came across you two. Top in your class, pre-med. That's quite an accomplishment. Beautiful and smart." Trish laughed appropriately and Victoria shuffled awkwardly.
"Well, you know," Trish's voice was as sweet as sugar, "We do try." Her blonde friend fluttered her lashes and Victoria internally gagged.
"Yes," that same disgusting smile on his face, "That's why I decided it would be a good decision if I personally invited you to my party next Saturday. See if you can find a spot in my company." Victoria's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something blatantly rude when Trish cut her off.
"We'd love to," the bleach blonde shot out, quicker then Victoria had thought she could be, "It would be our pleasure."
Victoria developed a pained look on her face, knowing Trish would make her go now. Figuring that she might as well get out now she made a large dramatic motion of checking her watch. "Well, look at the time. We've got class soon, Trish. We better head out."
Tossing a couple bills on the table, she grabbed her friend's arm before she could argue and propelled her out the door. Victoria Varon sighed, what had she gotten herself into?
Chapter 1
Author: Kamikazee E-Mail: neo_kamikazee@hotmail.com Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: none, AU Warning: AU, swearing Characters/Pairing: Lita/Shawn, Molly/Edge, Lillian/Rock, Trish/Jeff, Victoria/Jericho, various other WWE characters Summary: AU, If they weren't wrestlers they would be normal. Not quite. A ball brings 10 completely different people together. Author's Notes: Answer to Rachel's AU challenge. Took me a while to get it out. This chapter is really long, as well. Had to introduce the cast. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters affiliated with the WWE. This is a piece of non-profit fiction. No copyright infringement is intended. Distribution: Fanfiction.net, Personal Space, if you want it, e-mail me the URL
~
The office was not what you would call neat. Papers were strewn across the old desk and the computer sitting there was a step away from retirement. The small room was cramped with just that, but somehow a dilapidated office chair and uniform beige filing cabinet had been shoved in as well.
If one were to look at the papers on the desk, they would see mostly bills. Unpaid bills, at that. Second and third notices, warnings and missed payments. None of the paperwork looked to be hopeful in this office. In fact, it was down right bleak.
The relative quiet of the little room was interrupted as the door was thrown open and a young redhead stormed in. Outside various sounds could be heard. There was the obvious noise of human conversation, as well as dog, cat and bird speak. Some of the sounds couldn't even be distinguished.
The noises were abruptly cut off as the door was slammed close as fast as it had been thrown open. Lita Dumas collapsed into her chair with exhaustion, not seeming to care that the chair made an ominous creak at the motion.
Placing her elbows on her desk she held her head in her hands, attempting to calm her breathing. It probably wasn't the best idea as the motion allowed her close view of those unpaid bills. Lita hiccupped as tears prickled in her eyes.
When Jeff Hardy entered the room 5 minutes later that was how he found her.
"Hey, Li," the young bright haired man said, entering the room with a flourish, "Stacy said you were back here." His sentence was cut off as he noticed his friend's position. "Lita, baby, what's wrong?" Quickly moving to her side, he placed his arms awkwardly around her.
Looking up at him with unfamiliar tears in her eyes, Lita managed to push out a short explanation. "Jeff, they're going to shut me down. I don't have enough money and they won't give me any more loans." Her voice broke at the end of the sentence, thinking in desolation about her pride and joy, her animal shelter.
Jeff's eyes widened, and his head quickly turned to the side, taking in all the demands for payment laying unobtrusively on the worn wood surface of the desk. "Oh, Li, I'm so sorry," he managed to get out, his brain straining to find a solution, "maybe you could get a sponsor, or something. Someone rich who just wants the community recognition."
Lita looked at him with pleading hazel eyes, her tears replaced with desperation, "Jeff, I don't have those kind of connections, and you know it. I don't know anyone worth knowing! I spend most of my time with you and Mason!"
The anxiety in the redhead's voice was getting to the young Hardy, just as a quick solution popped into his brain, "But I do! Lita, that's why I came over here! I got a new job."
"Another one?" her problems momentarily forgotten, Lita looked at the young man in annoyance, "Jeff, that's what, the 6th in 5 months?"
"Something like that," Jeff answered quickly, "But, that's not the point. My new job, it's assisting Shawn Michaels. You know, the billionaire?"
Lita thought for a moment, her tongue between her teeth, "Isn't he that guy who's always saying the really controversial things? On the front page at least once a week for insulting someone important?"
Jeff smiled happily, "Yea, that's him. He's great, really nice guy. Thing is, there's this big ball thingy going on at the McMahon's, and I get to go with him, in case he needs me to copy down notes or something. I bet I could get you invited."
"Jeff, I don't know." Lita was a little uneasy. Shawn Michaels had possibly the worst reputation in San Francisco.
"No, really," Jeff said hurriedly, "Just let me call him. I'll just be a minute." Following that, the southern raised boy whipped out a cell phone Lita knew he hadn't had a week ago and hit speed dial. Fidgeting with impatience while it dialled, the young man gave a large smile when a voice came over the other end.
"Mr. Michaels," he began, politely enough, "Okay, Shawn. I was just wondering if I could bring a friend to the ball at the McMahon's next Saturday. Well, you know, she's just looking for something to do and I didn't want to have to bother you if I got bored. Really! That's great. Thanks, Mr. Shawn. Yes, I'll see you tomorrow."
Jeff turned a widely smiling face on his best friend, "You're in." A second later he was forced to catch a squealing redhead as she jumped into his arms. He laughed as the two of them ended up on the floor, tickling each other.
Lita stopped for a second to stare at the aimless young man. A wide smile spread across her face as she took in his rustled multi-coloured hair. "Jeff, I think I love you."
~
When Shawn Michaels got off the phone, he was lounging. He wasn't simply sitting, because that just wouldn't do, he was lounging. Thrown casually across a chair whose cost could have fed a small country for a month, he seemed perfectly at home, and yet decidedly inappropriate for the occasion. This was Shawn's constant state of being.
As it was, the blonde man should not have been able to pull of drinking a beer in his surroundings, yet he did without a care for how out of place it looked. In fact, the man prided himself on being exactly the opposite of what everyone expected him to be.
The call from his newest assistant had gotten him thinking, yet again, on the upcoming festivities. Shawn snorted at his description. While most people might not consider a Vince McMahon party fun, with him there, it would certainly be interesting.
Shawn let a smile curve his lips at the thought of yet another chance at humiliating Vince McMahon in front of a room full of important figures. The man deserved it, he was the lowest of the low. He should never have been allowed to reproduce. Come to think of it, he couldn't imagine what his wife saw in him.
That train of thought lead him to the McMahon children. Shane and Stephanie. Shane, as far as Shawn had seen, was just like his father. Not to be trusted and manipulative. Stephanie, though, he felt somewhat piteous of. He couldn't imagine growing up in that house.
Shaking his head, Shawn Michaels banished the thought. She was a McMahon's, for God's sake."
~
Stephanie McMahon laid on king sized bed, bored out of her mind. The media- proclaimed, billion-dollar princess had nothing to do. No suitors knocking on the door, no Shane playing pranks, no Linda to talk to and no Vince to suck up to.
It would have surprised many to find out that the young woman was decidedly not looking forward to the upcoming ball. In fact, the brunette was practically dreading it. An entire night with people who didn't care about her apart from what her last name was.
Sure, she thought, it was fun for a while, but there was only so much ass kissing she could stand. Stephanie sometimes wished that people treated her normally; for all that she would miss the luxuries of being rich. Her eyes widened with an idea as she thought of the one person outside her family who did treat her normally.
Picking up her phone, Stephanie quickly dialled a number she knew off by heart. When the phone was answered, she asked politely for the person she was suddenly dying to talk to. "Hi, can you tell Molly that Stephanie McMahon's on the phone?"
~
Molly Holly hummed to herself as she wheeled beneath the classic Mustang. This was a beautiful car. Forest green with brown leather interior and an engine to die for. What Molly wouldn't give to own a car like that. As it was, all she got to do was change the transmission.
When she heard Spike Dudley screeching that someone was on the phone, the short woman let out a sigh. So much for a private moment with the car. Rising up from underneath the car, the dyed blonde wiped grease stained hands on her coveralls and walked towards the small office of the garage.
Taking the old phone from her business partner, she took on her professional tone, "Sweet Rides Body Shop, Holly speaking." Listening to the squealing on the other end, the Molly quickly realized who it was. "Hey, Steph."
Pausing yet again as her brunette friend started to ramble, Molly Holly quickly faded out. The technique had been perfected after a five-year friendship with the youngest McMahon. When Stephanie ended with a question, Molly found herself somewhat confused.
"What was that?" she asked, blinking in bewilderment. When Steph repeated herself, the eyes that had so recently been relaxed widened in shock. "No, no way." The blonde was shaking her head frantically at the phone. "I'm not a party person, Steph, you know that. Oh, come on. No don't do that. Fine, yes, I'll go. Just stop whining."
Molly let her head drop at the excited scream on the other end. Stephanie began talking again and Molly accepted the fact that she wouldn't be moving for a while. Luckily for her, yet another yell from Spike saved her, "Costumer!"
"Sorry, Steph," Molly said with a smile on her face, "Duty calls." She then dropped the phone into its cradle and headed back into the garage proper. The sight that greeted her would have made woman across the world swoon, Molly Holly simply smiled.
Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson was a sex symbol to woman all over the world, but Molly Holly liked him only because of his choice in car. Moving over to him, she greeted the celebrity with a handshake. "Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry, but you're cars not ready yet, I got interrupted."
"It's ready," Spike answered, his body revealed as he pushed himself out from under the Mustang that Molly had been working on earlier. "All finished up. I did it while you were on the phone, Molls." Molly nodded at the explanation.
"I'll just print up your bill for you then, Mr. Johnson." As she accessed the appropriate file on the garage computer, Dwayne was pulled into conversation by Spike.
"Yes, The Rock needed his ride for the McMahon party next Saturday. Have to make an impression for all The Rock's fans, you know." Molly rolled her eyes at Spike, handing over the bill for the transmission change.
"Here's your bill Mr. Johnson." Molly said politely enough, trying to fight a mocking smile that threatened her lips, "If you have any questions."
"The Rock has no questions," was the reply she got, "The Rock will make sure you get your payment." With that the man flipped out his sunglasses and drove out of the garage, not a word of good-bye to either of the mechanics.
"What an asshole." was Spike's only statement before he headed back to work.
~
Chris Jericho slammed his desk phone down after once again having to deal with idiotic secretary's who had more breasts then brains. All he wanted was one interview with 'The Rock'. One interview. They wouldn't give it to him, though. Dwayne Johnson's PR people wouldn't allow it after that demeaning article he had written on the man two months ago.
Letting his hands run through his blonde hair, Chris sighed. Maybe his article had been a little insulting, but it had all been truthful. The man was a conceited asshole and he would willingly pay to go to see one of his movies when platypuses flew out of his ass.
At the sound of someone entering the office, Chris looked up, expecting it to be Steven Richards, or one of the other journalists. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of the Boy Wonder, Shane McMahon. Seeing the young man in the office was not a normal occurrence.
Seeing the man walk into the editor's office, Chris rose from his desk. Moving over to loiter around Eric Bischoff's office, her casually leaned against the doorjamb, straining to hear the conversation inside. The only words he could pick out were journalist, ball, and spice it up.
When the door was quickly opened, Chris turned hurriedly to the side, feigning innocence. Eric looked at him with the constant annoyance he had whenever he was in the blonde Canadians presence. "Jericho."
Chris raised a hand and gave a saucy wave, "Hey boss." He then turned to the interesting part of his day, Shane McMahon, "Yo, Simba, long time no see." He used his own nickname for the McMahon heir, hoping to get a rise out of him.
Shane McMahon gave him a twisted smile that made Chris Jericho just a little more wary then he had been before. "Jericho, just the trouble making journalist I was looking for." Eric looked a little surprised at the comment, which quickly turned to shock.
"No, no, no." he began, getting red in the face, "You don't want Jericho. The man is insulting, brash and has no tact at all!"
Shane McMahon went on smiling that same creepy smile, "Just the reporter I was looking for to cover the McMahon family ball."
Chris smiled at the realization of what that could mean for him. Flashing blue eyes showed his excitement at the idea. "I'm in."
Shane smiled and replied simply, "I thought you would be. Oh, yea, just so you know. I hear Edge is going to be there as well. Don't you two no each other?" The eldest McMahon sibling then turned and strode out of the building, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
Chris Jericho, on the other hand, had exchange his smile for a frown, his forehead wrinkling. "I hate that guy!"
~
"This is E & C on Radio 619 preparing you for your non-stop rock block." As soon as the on-air light flashed off, the tall blonde sighed with relief and turned to his brother, who was lounging beside him. "Man, I love this job, but don't you wish you could actually say something worth while, you know?"
Christian looked at Edge in confusion and asked, "Dude, why would you want to do that." Shaking his blonde head, he turned back to his video game magazine. Edge sighed again and turned to his book. Christian was his brother, but sometimes he wondered about that guy.
The brother's reading was quickly interrupted when Rey Mysterio entered the broadcasting room. He turned to Edge and started, no small talk stopping him. "Yo, man, how would you like to do this interview at the McMahon place?"
Edge stared wide-eyed at his boss. "You don't mean, the ball, do you? Oh, man, that's like the largest event of the year! I'd so love to do it!"
Rey nodded at him, "It's yours. Next Saturday, 8 pm. Don't forget to bring a date." The short man then left as quickly as he had came, leaving Edge dumbfounded and Christian as dumb as always.
Christian then shook himself out of his ongoing stupor for a second to look at his brother, "Dude, where are you going to find a date?"
Edge's eyes widened. The blonde Canadian then quickly leapt up and grabbed his coat, running for the door. "I'll be back in a few."
Sprinting across the street, Edge burst into the near deserted dinner there. Eyes quickly scanning it, they settled on a bored Lillian Garcia, leaning against the counter and humming. "Lily!" Edge yelled, catching the other blonde's attention.
Looking up, Lillian smiled at him, "Hey, Edge, what's up?" she asked, her voice melodic even in speech. "Can I get you anything?"
"You can be my date to the McMahon ball next Saturday," Edge looked at the woman with pleading eyes as she took on a state of puzzlement. "Just say yes."
"Okay, yes, but." Lillian was cut off as the tall man quickly hugged her before sprinting back out the door, nearly running over two women on his way out.
"Thanks, Lil! I'll talk to you later!"
~
As Trish Stratus and Victoria Varon walked into the small diner, the two women were forced to rapidly push themselves against the wall as a tall blonde man bolted past them. Continuing in, Trish huffed in indignation, "How rude."
Victoria simply shrugged her shoulders. Instead of continuing on that topic, which she knew Trish would do if she said anything about it, she headed on to why they were in the diner in the first place. "So, why did Vince McMahon say he wanted to meet us here?"
Trish frowned, thinking about the meeting they were supposed to have, "I don't really know, Vic. But, come on, we had to come. This is THE Vince McMahon. The billionaire."
Victoria simply snorted at the description and added her two cents about the man, "The complete perve." She did not have a high opinion of that man, or for any of his family, for that matter. She had read the articles.
When the man himself walked in several minutes later, she was about as impressed as she had started off, not much. The sleazy smile and slightly off eyes put Victoria on her guard. Trish, however, ploughed on unafraid.
"Oh, Mr. McMahon," she gushed, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I have to tell you, we were surprised by your call, but it's such an honour that you would. I'm Trish Stratus and this is Victoria Varon."
"Pleasure," Vince gave them a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes and sat down at the small booth. Victoria was infinitely glad it wasn't on her side. When he began to talk, she became even more nervous.
"Well, I was looking into the university students, get the scoop on who to hire, and I came across you two. Top in your class, pre-med. That's quite an accomplishment. Beautiful and smart." Trish laughed appropriately and Victoria shuffled awkwardly.
"Well, you know," Trish's voice was as sweet as sugar, "We do try." Her blonde friend fluttered her lashes and Victoria internally gagged.
"Yes," that same disgusting smile on his face, "That's why I decided it would be a good decision if I personally invited you to my party next Saturday. See if you can find a spot in my company." Victoria's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something blatantly rude when Trish cut her off.
"We'd love to," the bleach blonde shot out, quicker then Victoria had thought she could be, "It would be our pleasure."
Victoria developed a pained look on her face, knowing Trish would make her go now. Figuring that she might as well get out now she made a large dramatic motion of checking her watch. "Well, look at the time. We've got class soon, Trish. We better head out."
Tossing a couple bills on the table, she grabbed her friend's arm before she could argue and propelled her out the door. Victoria Varon sighed, what had she gotten herself into?